Like the Pictures? Buy the Prints. For more Ireland photos, visit Brian Eden’s gallery.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2007
Enough with the cities. On Saturday morning, we left Cork to see the real Ireland. The small towns. The rolling countryside. The sheep.
We would not be disappointed.
Like the Pictures? Buy the Prints. For more Ireland photos, visit Brian Eden’s gallery.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2007
On Friday, we would rent a car and drive from Dublin to Cork on the wrong side of the road.
And so, for the first time since puberty, I lay awake in the middle of the night mentally rehearsing the act of driving.
Like the Pictures? Buy the Prints. For more Ireland photos, visit Brian Eden’s gallery.
Everyone told me how green Ireland is. And they were right! As soon as I stepped on the Aer Lingus plane, everything was green. The seats were green. The flight attendants’ uniforms were green. And, thanks to the in-flight meal, even the passengers were green.
After dinner, four flight attendants sauntered through the cabin armed with teapots, asking at each row, “Tea? Tea? Tea?” They sounded like a flock of very confused birds.
When they got to the front of the plane, a large black man responded “Yes?”
It was Mr. T.
(You’re full of crap. -Editor)
The flight, which left at 7pm Baltimore time, landed at 6:30 am Ireland time. I slept on the plane not at all. Thursday would be a long, tired day.
DISCLAIMER: Though seemingly impossible, all of the following facts, (except where blatantly false), are true. At least, according to Wikipedia.
The early 90’s were the golden age of sausage.
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I recently learned that I got named finalist in the Radio Mercury Awards. All finalists were asked to create a video. You can get a sneak preview of mine right here:
I was walking to my car.
She was standing there under the awning. Smoking. Her hair was different. But there was no doubt it was her.
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I opened my closet doors, thumbed through some shirts and wondered, “what do you wear to a circumcision?”
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1. Mannequins have nipples.
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Wherever there is hardship in this world, there is someone else who’s trying to help. Be it oppression or adversity. Cruelty or injustice. It seems that everyone has an advocate.
But, sadly, there’s one group whose anguish has gone overlooked for far too long:
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Walk a mile in my underpants 